


gonna make em scream some day, gonna make it big

by rosetintedworld



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, F/F, Lesbian AU, Mommy Kink, Sugar Mama, alaskas a performance major and a starbucks barista, cis female au, sharons double alaskas age and makes indie horror films
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-12-26 06:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12053298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosetintedworld/pseuds/rosetintedworld
Summary: Sharon, 42, writer of indie horror films. Busty, blonde with hints of silver, permanent bedroom eyes and velvet lips. Her Tinder pictures were her with a raggedy looking cat, her with her head thrown back in laughter and a bottle Pabst, her in a silk robe with tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose and a glass of champagne in her hand. Alaska hovered on the profile for a moment. She tried to take in the tattoos and the dimple in her chin. The high cheekbones and her sultry glare and the way her clothes hung to her curves. Her thumbs hovered and she sucked in a deep breath before super liking and clicking her phone shut. From under her pillow, her phone buzzed but she ignored it and pulled her blanket up to her chin.





	1. beautiful, dirty, rich

**Author's Note:**

> title from ballad of a politician by regina spektor, chapter title from beautiful dirty rich by lady gaga

It wasn’t something she ever saw herself doing. Or even thought about doing until Violet mentioned it as a joke while scrolling through her Tinder and Alaska got a text from her manager saying she was booked for significantly fewer hours than before. She’d used dating apps before, yes, she was a  _ Pisces.  _ Alaska was a gentle lover. She was passionate and caring because love was fulfilling and completing. The second half of the circle that was  _ her life.  _ She’d been on  _ Tinder _ and  _ Bumble _ and any other “lesbian” dating app that had caught her eye. She’d even been on some dates, some successful, some not. None of them led to the romantic fantasy she dreamed of though, given her settings were to girls her age who most of the times were experimenting in their college days and didn’t want anything more than to drink and fuck and not talk again. Alaska was 21. She was a junior in college, she could go to bars and order booze herself, she could pay her bills (barely) in her run down apartment, and if she wanted to change up her online dating profile a little to target a slightly different audience, she  _ damn well could.  _

So, that’s how her  _ Tinder _ was back up and running, bio set to  _ Alaska, 21, my names yours, whats alaska? performance major at pittsburgh u, starbucks barista extraordinaire, pisces (but im more of a snake than a fish), and yes i am naturally a platinum blonde  _ and preferences set to woman ages 30-50. Her manager was left on delivered but her landlord was texted and asked about rent being a few days late. She sent a silent prayer to anyone who was listening before settling into bed on her stomach and opening the aforementioned app.

The glow of her iPhone screen illuminated her face in the now dark room. Pittsburgh was busy outside, which was typical for a Thursday night when you lived in the middle of the city. Not what some would say was the  _ good  _ middle of the city, but middle of the city nonetheless. Middle of the city enough that Alaska was living paycheck to paycheck trying to make rent while her building simultaneously was falling apart. What  _ was  _ good though, was the handful of woman Alaska was willing to swipe right on. Katya, 35, former Russian gymnast and now a hot blonde yoga instructor.  Bianca, 43, a seamstress with dimples for days. Raja, 45, a makeup artist who happened to be drop dead gorgeous too, which wasn’t quite fair in Alaska’s books.

Sharon, 42, writer of indie horror films. Busty, blonde with hints of silver, permanent bedroom eyes and velvet lips. Her  _ Tinder  _ pictures were her with a raggedy looking cat, her with her head thrown back in laughter and a bottle Pabst, her in a silk robe with tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose and a glass of champagne in her hand. Alaska hovered on the profile for a moment. She tried to take in the tattoos and the dimple in her chin. The high cheekbones and her sultry glare and the way her clothes hung to her curves. Her thumbs hovered and she sucked in a deep breath before  _ super liking _ and clicking her phone shut. From under her pillow, her phone buzzed but she ignored it and pulled her blanket up to her chin. 

—

The first thing Alaska does after she wakes up is check her phone and have a minor heart attack over the messages on her screen. Well, that’s a lie. The first thing she does is de-tangle her hair from the elastic it was in, push herself up from her mattress on the floor and stretch until she can hear her back crack, make herself a coffee, and then almost spill the scalding liquid on herself when she clicks her phone open.

_ Sharon: Well, aren’t you a sweet little thing? _

_ Sharon: What are you up to doll? _

The hot horror babe double her age had super-liked her back and  _ messaged her first.  _

_ Alaska: oh shit sorry, i fell asleep last night ! _

Sharon responds in nearly a minute and they fall into easy conversation. Alaska mentions she’s up to nothing, really, as she’s not booked for work and there was still a good two weeks before she had to start classes again. The other woman mentions just writing and sketching, working on concepts but other than that doing “fuck all”. The conversation turns shallow, as online dating conversations usually do, and Sharon mentions how Alaska’s gorgeous, how her smile could kill and how her hips are mesmerizing. She asks for a picture and Alaska doesn’t know why she’s blushing all the way up her chest. Or why she spends 5 minutes trying to fix herself up to send a photo to impress a woman she doesn’t know. 

—

It was only two nights later when Alaska had agreed to meet Sharon for dinner.

She had scoured her closet for something to wear on a  _ date. _ Going to bars and clubs, sure. She had clothes for that. Clothes for a date with a woman 21 years her senior who showered her in compliments, was extremely blunt, and had a charmingly crude sense of humour? Yeah, can’t say she’s had to dress for that before. But there’s always a first time for everything. She settles eventually on a sparkly black bralette that dips in slightly to show her cleavage and a black pencil skirt. The length of the pencil skirt cancels out the sexuality of the bralette and the way the skirt hugs her hips, obviously. For good measure, she pairs it with a floral blue kimono and what she hopes are her best pair of black fuck me heels. 

The restaurant Sharon had picked out was a couple of blocks away. It was some fancy vegetarian place that Alaska had never heard of, but from a quick Google search she concluded that it was definitely out of her price range and somewhere she could never imagine herself stepping into. It’d be like a bull in a china shop, out of the ordinary and a very bad idea. She wasn’t  _ fancy. _ Sure, one day, when she was a performer making millions maybe she would’ve returned to the city and ate at some fancy vegetarian restaurant. But now, a simple  _ Starbucks _ barista who had a mattress in the corner of her room and wallpaper made of sketches and drawings? Nope. 

It’s only when she got to the restaurant that she realized she was shaking.  _ Why was she so nervous?  _ She had thanked her Uber driver with a nervous smile and rated five stars, watching as he drove away while wringing her hands together nervously. 

The inside was beautiful. All velvet upholstery. There was soft music playing and the walls were lined with paintings. It was classy and chic. And it smelt  _ expensive.  _ There was even a  _ maître d _ who eyed her as she stood, nearly trembling in her heels like a deer caught in the headlights. It was embarrassing and she thought for a moment of just leaving. She was here to have a good night and hopefully get laid by an extremely hot woman and she was in it to win it but right now she wasn’t feeling like a winner.

“Alaska!” A woman called from a booth in the right corner, almost completely out of view and Alaska dipped away from the maître d with a shy smile and scurried over.

She was more gorgeous in person, somehow. Her blonde hair was clipped back from her face and the dim lighting didn’t reveal much, but Alaska could see the glimpses of silver where stray locks of hair fell around her face. Her cheekbones were high and her face was contoured and hollowed out. Her lips were pouty and plush. They’d be nice to kiss. Probably. Hopefully. Her tortoiseshell glasses were perched on her nose and Alaska could see from behind them where Sharon’s eyeshadow was creasing slightly where it fell into her crows feet. She wanted to brush it away, feel Sharon’s soft looking skin under her fingers.

Strong arms were hugging Alaska before she was able to process what was happening. Sharon was warm around her, rubbing her back and squeezing her waist. Her short sleeved blazer and pencil skirt was clinging to her body, the burnt orange contrasting with the black of Sharon’s bra that was spilling from where the buttons didn’t go quite high enough. Alaska trailed her eyes up the long leather gloves she was wearing and over the tattoo of a phone number just where the gloves ended above her elbow.

“Sit, sit! Hi darling, how are you?” Sharon’s eyes twinkled as she sat back down, pouring out two glasses of wine from the bottle already sitting on the table. 

“I’m, uh, really well! Thank you! How about yourself?” Alaska smiled, graciously taking the wine. Maybe the alcohol would soothe her nerves. “Also sorry for running a bit late. Traffic. You know.”

“Don’t even worry about it!” Sharon shrugs and smiles before reaching out and resting her hand over Alaska’s on the table.

Sharon is touchy. Her heel clad foot is hooked around Alaska’s ankle and trailing up and down her calf slowly. Goosebumps raise on Alaska’s skin and she wonders if Sharon can feel them, or if she can sense when her breath catches in her throat and her cheeks flush. She’s always reaching across the table and taking Alaska’s hand in her own, bumping hands when passing a menu over or leaning across to grasp at her arm when Alaska says something funny enough to make Sharon throw her head back in laughter. 

They talk and eat and drink. Sharon leans forward to feed Alaska bites of her risotto, claiming that her soup simply can’t be enough and she doesn’t  _ care _ about the price. The waitress comes and goes with another bottle of wine and Alaska pours herself another glass, stains it with her lipstick and Sharon makes her laugh so hard red wine comes out of her nose much to her embarrassment. 

Her eyes are bright and intense. Sharon’s asking Alaska about where she works, what she does. Alaska’s cheeks are pink from the attention but she doesn’t mind, really. Sharon listens when she talks about being a performance major, how she loves plays (especially musicals) and how she writes songs (but they’re mostly parodies, because they’re more fun) and how she really wants to make it big some day. She listens as Alaska talks about her brothers, who are either doctors or in the military and the wine talks about how sometimes she feels a little bit ashamed of herself for not being as successful as them. Sharon is intelligent yet ditzy, listening when it’s important, sniping in with comments and questions when necessary, sometimes distracting herself with a related story from her past or a pop-culture reference Alaska raises her eyebrow at. It’s nice. 

Sharon’s gloved hands are on her arm and then in her purse to pay the bill and leave a very generous tip. Alaska’s eyes widen at the price but Sharon is already pulling her away and outside with an arm around her waist. Her grip is strong and steadies Alaska where she’s feeling tipsy and clumsy on her feet, heels clacking on the sidewalk. The flick of a lighter brings her back to her senses and she watches, hypnotized, as Sharon lights a cigarette and breathes deeply. Smoking has never been a turn on her for, really. But the way the smoke leaves Sharon’s soft lips and the way her eyes go hazy is enough for Alaska to press a kiss to her jaw so Sharon will hail a cab for the both of them. 

The back of the cab is stuffy and hot. Sharon’s hands are on Alaska’s thighs and in her hair and Alaska’s eyes are dark. She shifts to wrap a hand around the back of Sharon’s neck and pull her in for a kiss. Their lips press together in a rush, teeth clinking. It feels so cliche and wrong, making out in the back of a taxi. Sharon’s hand is resting on her thigh and she’s nipping at Alaska’s lip so softly she has to hold back her moans. It’s dirty and  _ wrong  _ how much Alaska wants Sharon to take her right then and there, so luckily Sharon’s building is only a few blocks away and it’s not long until Sharon’s paying and tipping and pulling Alaska out of the vehicle. 

They stumble past the doorman with a nod and Alaska forces herself not to think about how often Sharon must do this, stumble in drunkenly with a girl on her arm late at night. They press into the elevator and Sharon corners her as they go up the twenty-six flights to her apartment, peppering kisses on her skin and tugging at the hems of her clothes.

From the elevator down the hall to Sharon’s apartment is a blur. Inside, it’s all minimal decor and chandeliers and art on the walls. The floor is hardwood and the furniture is neat and tidy. In her drunken haze, Sharon manages to give a quick tour. Quick tour meaning pointing out the different rooms in the large apartment while stripping herself of her gloves and heels and Alaska following suit as Sharon drags her forward by the hand. 

The master bedroom, somehow, exceeds Alaska’s expectations. But then again this woman was a mystery wrapped in an enigma and she wasn’t sure what to expect in the first place. The far wall is all window and she can see all the lights from the city flickering. A chandelier in front of the window from an apartment across the ways twinkles and Alaska can feel the wine in her bloodstream. The floors are dark, the walls are cream and the furniture is matte black. It’s elegant and chic. Alaska can feel Sharon’s eyes on her and wants the floor to swallow her whole. Against the wall is a king sized bed and the headboard is tall, the bars thin and simple and Alaska needs to be fucked and grasping onto them  _ right now.  _ There’s art on the walls and vintage movie posters and Alaska can spot an open sketchbook on the nightstand. Her eyes flicker back to the window when she hears a plane fly overhead.

“You like the view?” It’s more of a statement than a question. Alaska nods anyways. She can feel Sharon’s smile and flushes all up her chest. 

Sharon presses her body up along Alaska’s back. She can feel the fabric of her dress and the softness of her breasts against her spine. Her hair brushes Alaska’s shoulders when it’s released from the clip and she has the urge to touch it. She wants to feel it through her fingers and sort out the greys from the blonds, hear Sharon sigh when she massages her scalp. Sharon’s warm against her and presses her forward softly until they’re standing in front of the window and Alaska can see people on the sidewalk. She wonders if they know what’s going on stories above them.

There’s a tug on the zipper of Alaska’s skirt then the cool air is hitting her thighs and Sharon’s helping her step out of it. The older woman hums. It’s low and soft and she can feel it against her shoulder when Sharon tucks her chin over it. She presses a kiss to Alaska’s neck and watches goosebumps rise where her lipstick leaves a mark. 

Any other hook-ups Sharon would get the other girl to strip. Make her put on a show for her and work for it. Or it’d be fast and there’d be a trail of clothes from the front door to the bedroom. Like some X-rated drunken Hansel and Gretel. At least it served its purpose when Sharon pretended to be asleep and willed the other person to find their way out in the morning. But Alaska was different. Sharon undresses her slowly in attempt to take her all in. Her thighs were milky and soft. There were the slightest of pink stretch marks where her hips had filled out and the older woman took her time tracing them if only to feel Alaska shiver under her. The things she would do to keep the younger girl shivering under her hands. She slid her kimono off, followed by her bralette so she could cup her breasts and squeeze before pulling her underwear down her hips.

Sharon’s still humming. Completely nonchalant. Alaska has to wonder how many girls she takes home. How many of them she strips in front of the window. If she presses the pads of her thumbs into the underside of their breasts and pinches their nipples and hips just to hear them squeak. Sharon’s still fully dressed, save for her glasses, heels, and gloves that were shed earlier. She debated on keeping the gloves on, too. If only to see the way Alaska would shiver and blush when a cool leather finger would run through Alaska’s folds only to come out shiny and wet. Next time. 

“Sharon…” Alaska’s voice is whiny and Sharon shushes her, tapping her finger on her lips until Alaska takes it into her mouth.

“What do you want, baby?” Sharon’s calm and collected. The opposite of Alaska, whose heart is beating against her ribcage so hard it may break. She groans in reply.

Sharon pinches at her nipple with on hand, slipping another finger from her other hand in Alaska’s mouth when she gasps in response. She stumbles forward slightly and presses her palms against the glass as Sharon wraps an arm around her waist to keep her steady. There’s people below bustling on the sidewalk and she can see the people in apartments over. Her breath comes out hot and the window fogs where it hits.

“I got you, it’s okay. Such a pretty baby.” Sharon pets her hair, it’s long and soft in her palm, “I bet everyone outside loves the view just as much as you do.”

Alaska’s thighs shake as Sharon removes her fingers from her mouth. They’re slick with spit and Alaska watches the trail of saliva between her lips and Sharon’s fingers, dips her tongue forward to lick it up. Suddenly, Sharon’s fingers press up against her clit and she groans. Her head falls back against Sharon’s shoulder and her fingers curl against the glass searching to find purchase. The window feels like ice against her skin. But it may just be from the way her skin is radiating heat and the sweat is sticking to her. Sharon rubs slow circles and watches how Alaska’s hip shakes. Her left thigh twitches when Sharon trails a single finger back and forth over the nerves and her hips jerk forward when she presses the heel of her hand against it in order to rub against her hole with her fingers.

“Tell me what you want. I just want to make you feel good.” Sharon’s voice is warm and she can feel the pout against her ear. She’s teasing. Her fingers skate past Alaska’s clit again and she presses the tip of a finger inside of her. It slips just past the muscle until the younger girl gasps and then it’s gone.

“Fuck me, please. Please mama. God.” Alaska’s whining high in her throat. Her throat catches on the  _ mama _ and she flushes from embarrassment, all up her chest to her cheeks. Sharon kisses and smiles against her shoulder.

Alaska nearly cries when Sharon slips a finger inside her. Her pussy is warm and  _ wet _ and Sharon fucks her slow. The sound echoes in the otherwise silent room and Alaska whimpers. Her centre is pink and swollen and Sharon relishes in the sound, slips another finger in without problem and scissors them just to hear Alaska’s embarrassed cry when she comments on how wet she is. Her fingers work slow and Alaska is squirming enough that Sharon has to wrap her arm back around her waist, pressing her naked form against Sharon’s clothed one to keep her still. Alaska’s trailing her hands backwards. Up into Sharon’s hair and down her side, around to her ass and thighs, then back down to try and intertwine their fingers and press Sharon deeper into her.

“Alaska baby, no. You’ll get there. I’ll take care of you.” Sharon tsked, her tone stern. 

Alaska whines and curls her fingers into Sharon’s arm. Sharon digs her fingers deeper and crooks them. Alaska’s bowlegged knees buckle and she reaches out again to steady herself against the window and lean back against Sharon. Her eyes are glued shut and her lips are parted and Sharon works her so sweetly, pumping two fingers and swiping her thumb in soft circles around Alaska’s clit. 

“You gonna cum? So beautiful. Cum for me baby girl.” Sharon murmurs. Her eyes are dark and downcast, shaded by her eyelashes. 

Alaska finishes with a cry and her legs give out. Her small frame is shaking and Sharon holds her close, shifts them until they’re back onto the bed and Alaska is panting. The city light reflects on the sweat on Alaska’s chest. Her breasts are illuminated and Sharon leans down to nip at a nipple and Alaska gasps from the overstimulation. 

Quickly, Sharon sheds her clothing, nearly ripping a button from her dress in the process. She shifts Alaska onto her back and moves to straddle her chest. Alaska’s panting. Her breasts fall when she exhales and Sharon watches how they shake, reaches out to pinch the skin around her nipple. Her thumb trails against Alaska’s lips and she opens her mouth for it, suckling it and groaning around the digit. A whine escapes her when Sharon pulls her thumb away and trails spit across her bottom lip to see how they glisten. 

Sharon’s hips move of their own accord, shifting upwards until she’s against Alaska’s mouth. Her tongue laps out immediately. She presses the flat of her tongue against Sharon’s clit and hears her groan closed mouth. She prods more then, circling around the nub until Sharon is circling her hips above her and grinding against her mouth. Alaska moves her hands to Sharon’s thighs, gives them a squeeze and presses her nose against the groomed hairs. Her breath is cut off and she can feel herself flushing from the effort but she can’t find it in her to stop. The older woman is shaking above her and Alaska sucks hard on her clit. Wetness covers the bottom of Alaska’s face and Sharon  _ whimpers _ before lifting herself off.

“So good. So, so good doll.” Sharon shifts until they’re both under the sheets and presses a kiss to Alaska’s lips, chin, jaw, cheek. She sighs out through her nose and pulls the girl close to her, nudging her knee between the other’s thighs and holding her head to her chest until Alaska’s breathing matches the beating of her heart. 

—

When Alaska wakes, the spot in bed beside her is cold and there’s a dull ache deep in her skull. Sunlight filters in through the large window and Alaska has to squint to look around the room. The cream sheets are glowing pale yellow in the light. They’re soft against her skin where she feels sweaty and gross, and it takes a moment for Alaska to remember where she is. The framed poster for a campy 80s slasher films jerks her memory. Sharon.

She pads out of bed slowly, shifting over to the dresser where she finds last night's clothes folded up neatly along with a pair of shorts and shirt that Sharon must’ve left out. It’s weird, almost domestic. Most hook ups don’t do this. But then again, most hook ups weren’t older goth women who spend over $100 at dinner without a blink of an eye then fuck Alaska in front of their gigantic window up on the 26th floor of a high class apartment. Alaska squeezes back into her pencil skirt and slips her bralette over her head while making her way out to the rest of the apartment. 

There’s a note on the island in the kitchen, atop the granite.

_ I’m so sorry, I had to run before you woke up! You look gorgeous even in your sleep .. Is that weird to say? _

_ Feel free to shower and help yourself to breakfast and coffee. _

_ I would love to see you again, doll. <3 _

  * __Sharon Needles__



There’s a mug with little ghosts on it beside the note and it’s all too weird and too much. Alaska orders an Uber with the last of her phone battery, adds the number scribbled at the bottom of the paper into her contacts, then tucks the note into the back of her phone case. The doorman downstairs gives her a nod of acknowledgement when she eaves the building and as she got into her Uber she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

The rest of the day went by in a haze. Alaska took a cold, cold shower and puttered around her apartment making shitty coffee and a bowl of cereal before going to work. Her afternoon shift was full of fake smiles and frappuccinos and she spilled hot coffee on herself in a distracted haze and cursed, her co-workers giving her concerned glances. It wasn’t her fault. It was purely coincidence how she kept getting distracted whenever she noticed the crows feet on a lady sitting in the corner or the grey-blue eyes of the young girl she was taking an order from. 

She texted Sharon when she got home.  

—

The next time they meet up it’s during the day in a nice area downtown. It’s a very  _ Liberal _ area. Rainbow crosswalk and all. It’s chalked full of vegan restaurants and nice little expensive shops and it’s another area that Alaska would love to be able to walk down on a random afternoon and not feel intimidated, but that’s not quite the case right now. 

Alaska’s in a white shirt tucked into a black skater skirt with a flannel, and half her hair is pulled up into two buns. She feels cute. And gay. And she hopes Sharon thinks the same enough to like, hold her hand or something, or finger her in the washroom of some mom-and-pop restaurant. Maybe both. She tries not to think too much about it as her Uber parks just down the road from the diner Sharon told her to meet her at.

The restaurant is small and cute, not to mention far less intimidating from the last place. There're plants hanging from the ceiling and a large fish tank. It’s earthy and warm. Scanning the room, there’s no sign of Sharon but before she goes and sits down to wait she hears a soft ‘boo!’ from behind her. Alaska flushes at how she jumped in response and Sharon laughs, pulling her into a hug. The booths are made of worn down leather and the floor creaks slightly as they make their way to a seat. She feels far more “in her element” here, yet her chest still feels tight as Sharon sits across from her.

Her hair is soft and curled, but her eyes are dark and blown out and her lips are plump and red. It’s a dramatic look for one o’clock on a Tuesday, but Alaska doesn’t mind. Her black mock neck shirt hugs her body and her pants are tight and match her lips. It’s modern and chic and Alaska feels underdressed. But Sharon’s gaze is smouldering and trails down her body with a smile. It feels oddly familiar. Oddly comforting.

Sharon asks the waiter if they have Pabst in bottles, not on tap, (they do), and Alaska orders a lemonade. The menu is handwritten and cute, with tacky pun names and illustrations. A foot brushes up against Alaska’s and Sharon’s hand is on her arm. She’s humming as she reads, her lips pursed. Her cool eyes are squinted slightly from her lack of glasses and her crows feet crease slightly. It’s endearing, really. Her fingers are tracing the blue veins under the skin and Alaska wonders if she can feel the goosebumps raising, or if she even realizes she’s doing it in the first place. She imagines Sharon can feel the blood pulsing under her skin. A steady rhythm. By the time the waiter comes back to take their order Alaska had barely read the menu and stumbles slightly, ordering a salad. Sharon shoots her a knowing smile, curling her fingers around Alaska’s small wrist.

“So what do you do, exactly?” Sharon raises her eyebrows at the question, letting her thumb rub at Alaska’s arm.

“Well…” She pauses to take a sip of her beer, “To put it simply I work on short films. They’re just independent projects, mostly horror. I’ve always loved the genre and I love creating and I had the money so I said fuck it, got a group together and we’ve been working together since. We have a pretty strong fan base too, fucked up if you ask me.” Sharon laughs, big and booming in the otherwise calm restaurant. 

Alaska smiles and asks about her projects. Her eyes light up when she talks and Alaska can see how her cheekbones protrude when she smiles that wide. The older woman talks about horror movies she admires, how growing up the weird goth dyke made her truly admire the villains in films who got revenge on the preps and the jocks. Most other people would be terrified to hear how their date relates to the killers in these films, but with Sharon it makes sense. She throws herself entirely into her work. Throws herself into the scripts and the storyboards and all the inspirations. She’s always hovering around people on set and fucking with lighting and costumes then marathoning films she’s seen before and can probably quote word for word. This woman is intelligent and intense but spooky and stupid and Alaska doesn’t quite know what to make of her.  

They eat, and talk, and Sharon drinks a few more PBR. Alaska steals a fry from Sharon’s plate and dips it in the surprisingly good vegan milkshake Sharon had guilted her into ordering, just because she refused a lemonade refill and that just wasn’t happening in Sharon’s books. The older woman threw another fry at her for Alaska’s amusement. She was like a baby. A cute one, not an annoying crying one. She was one that you just wanted to keep cooing and giggling and happy. They ordered cheesecake to share and Sharon fed it to her across the table, watching as Alaska’s lips pursed around the fork. 

When they go to pay, Alaska pulls her wallet out of her purse. Sharon  _ tsks  _ and gives her a warning look to put her wallet away, and Alaska tries to ignore the way heat pools in her stomach. 

As they leave, Sharon snakes an arm around Alaska’s waist. It fits there, and Alaska doesn’t mind. Her hand dips into the curve of her small waist and settles on her hip. It’s a warm heaviness and Alaska has to walk a little closer to Sharon due to it.

“Y’know, I didn’t realize I was gay until my senior year of high school maybe.” Alaska looks down at the small ceramic ghost in her hand, thinks that Sharon might like it. Her voice startles Sharon from where she’s standing a few feet away looking at a similar ceramic cat.

“Really? You come across as the loud and proud type. Like head cheerleader that all the bi-curious girls go to behind the bleachers to get their lesbian cherry popped.”

“Okay fair enough. Let me guess, little goth bitch who punched out anyone who tried to cuss you out for being a dyke?” Alaska fires back, putting down the small ghost and patting its head.

“I’ve had my fair share of physical  _ encounters _ . I’ll admit to that. No shame in punching someone’s teeth in when they disrespect you.” Sharon raises her eyebrows in question to Alaska, “Although it did take half of freshman year before I started fighting back. I don’t eat meat but I’ll use ‘em to nurse a black eye if I have to.”

The older woman laughs but Alaska can’t help but imagine her younger, smaller. 14 year old Sharon nursing her wounds because some asshole thought she was a good target. 14 year old Sharon reapplying black lipstick in an abandoned girls' washroom. 14 year old Sharon being unapologetically herself despite her entire school seemingly working against her because she was a bit eccentric and queer. 14 year old Sharon going home and watching shitty horror movies as a distraction from the shit she had to deal with. It tugged on Alaska’s heart strings.

From antique shops to run down clubs to vintage boho chic clothing stores, they check them all out. Alaska tries on a dress that looks like it’s made of trash bags and spins, laughing as it floats up around her. Sharon hides behind a shelf in a costume store, popping out with fake teeth and a witch hat on to startle Alaska. Alaska tries on a horse mask at the back of the store, recalling how people in school used to call her  _ horse face _ . It doesn’t bother her anymore though, and she neighs in the mask before ripping it off and laughing. 

“If we ever get into a fight I’ll just buy us animal masks. You can’t be pissed off at someone when you’re a fucking horse and they’re a frog” Sharon shifts through the masks, laughing before pulling on Alaska’s arm back to the front of the store.

The next store they go into is pastel and airy. They sell lingerie and chiffon peignoirs, lace slip dresses and thigh high stockings with matching garters. It’s all out of Alaska’s price range. This isn’t just a store that you go to when going out with friends shopping. She knows this. And she knows Sharon knows this. Sharon walks in like she owns the place, one arm still wrapped around Alaska’s waist like she owns  _ her  _ and the other weaving through fabrics. 

“What’s your size, baby?” Sharon presses a kiss to her cheek and Alaska can feel her throat close in.

Her fingers clench into a fist. She’s sweating. Why is she sweating?

“Uh, I’m a 36C. Medium for everything else, I guess.” 

Sharon hums and shifts through the isles. The bags on her arm dig into the skin, making it pink and white. Alaska wants to kiss it. Sharon purchased some tacky looking Halloween knick-knacks, and anything Alaska looked at for over ten seconds and seemed interested in. It made her blush when Sharon insisted on buying it. They both drift around the store for a while, brushing off the sleepy looking girl who asked if they needed any help. 

Eventually, they end up near the back by the empty changing rooms. Sharon pulls Alaska into one, pulling the pale pink door shut behind her and clicking the lock shut. It’s a roomy area, with a large mirror on the back wall. The two walls are lined with benches and there’s a small circle stool in the corner. Alaska can feel the air heating up. Or maybe it’s just her. Sharon’s hanging things up on the hooks and looking back at Alaska expectantly when minutes pass and she’s still fully dressed.

“Don’t be shy, baby.” Sharon’s voice is soft. Her thighs spill outwards from where she’s sitting on the stool and she crosses her legs, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.

Alaska sucks in a breath before stripping, gauging her actions based on Sharon’s face. She tries on all the pieces Sharon picked out, ranging from sheer bras and thongs to intricate high wasted panties with matching garters and stockings. She tries on all the robes and slips, lets Sharon run her hands over the silk dawning her thighs. She spins her finger and Alaska turns in each outfit to show how her ass peeks out of the underwear and how her hair runs soft down her back. Sharon’s making soft sounds.

When Alaska gets to the last set, black high waisted fucking  _ crotchless panties _ with the bra and stockings to match, she feels her face go red hot. It was before, definitely, but this ensemble (if you will) was truly the cherry on top of this fucked up sexually frustrating sundae. She changes slowly, folding the last pieces and putting them back on their hangers on the wall. 

“Can you be good for me?” Sharon’s voice comes as a surprise and Alaska nods, spinning around to face the woman.  “Sit down pumpkin. Spread your legs.”

Alaska’s head was spinning. She lowered herself onto the bench slowly and pulled at her knees to spread her legs. Sharon’s gaze was red hot and Alaska squirmed.

“You’re so wet.” Alaska could hear Sharon laugh and she twitched, moving her legs back together slightly. “No baby, you’re being so good. I wanna see you.”

Alaska’s lungs were collapsing. Her insides were burning and she felt so dirty and flustered and they were in a damn  _ changing room _ . Sharon was fully dressed, legs crossed and lighting a cigarette even though it was against the rules because she just didn’t  _ care.  _ Smoke plumed upwards and she took a long drag, ashing her cigarette against the edge of the stool and turning back to where Alaska was squirming, the air conditioned air hitting her cunt.

“Can you touch yourself for me? I want you to fuck yourself with one finger baby, don’t want you to make too much of a mess.”

Sharon’s voice was so soft yet stern and Alaska wanted to cry. She grazed her index finger over her clit and jerked before tracing around her whole. She was  _ wet.  _ Just from trying on the lingerie and modelling for Sharon. Just being  _ around  _ Sharon. Sharon who had such a domineering energy. Sharon with her hand on the small of her back pressing her forward. Sharon feeding her cheesecake even when she thought she was full. Alaska pressed one finger in and gasped, squeezing her eyes shut to avoid the embarrassment of making eye contact with the other woman.

“Nice and slow, or else the whole store will hear how wet you are right now. Or would you like that? If someone walked back right now and could hear how wet you are, how you’re trying to hold back all your pretty little noises as you put on a show for me.” Sharon to try and relieve the pressure between her own thighs, “Touch your clit for me hun, with your other hand. You’re so good. So pretty”

Alaska gasped with the intensity of it all. Her thumb on her clit and her middle finger pressing up inside of her, shooting stars behind her eyelids. She could feel Sharon watching her, how her eyes were raking up and down her body as she thrust her hips into her own hands. The bench underneath her was probably wet but at this point she couldn’t bring herself to care. The dozy girl working up front could walk in on them, unlock the door from the outside and ask what was taking them so long and Alaska wouldn’t be able to find it in herself to care as long as Sharon wanted her to keep going.

“Sharon, I can’t, I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me baby.” Alaska’s hips shook and she clenched her jaw to try and keep her noises in as she thrust, panting as she came down from her high.

Sharon stood then and sucked Alaska’s wet fingers into her mouth. They left with a  _ pop! _ and Sharon smiled, letting Alaska change in silence before purchasing everything she picked out and pulling Alaska into an Uber back to her apartment building. 

—

School starts up again. Alaska’s in her final year of university. Soon, she’ll have her Bachelor’s Degree in Performing Arts. She’ll be able to move out to LA like she wanted and be successful. She can star in films and put out an album and make it big. She can make her parents proud along with her medical and military brother because she can be successful too! They all thought she wouldn’t make anything of herself. Sure, maybe she’d move out to LA like she’d always dreamed of, but make it big? Nah. Her mom was convinced she was just going to become some drug addicted deviant, but hey, isn’t that the superstar lifestyle anyways?

Alaska’s plans may have changed drastically. As the weeks turned into months, she spent less and less time at her own run down apartment. It wasn’t that she moved in with Sharon,  _ per se, _ it was just that over time she had ended up moving out of her apartment. Not to mention Sharon had seen one text from her landlord saying that her rent was far overdo and got so worried, telling Alaska to not worry about it because she had it covered. (Which was embarrassing on Alaska’s part, considering any time not spent in a lecture hall was probably spent working, but inflation was a bitch, y’know?). So it’s not like it was some big ordeal when two and a half months into  _ whatever _ they had, Alaska was staying there most of the time. She just needed a place to stay until she could find somewhere she could actually afford, and Sharon was willing to give her a helping hand! It also helped that Sharon had a tongue that made her see God.

The move in was gradual. Alaska had a healthy collection of clothes and lingerie at Sharon’s apartment, just from previous dates where Sharon insisted she buy everything for Alaska because it just looked so cute on her and she had her own bills to pay, so Sharon would buy. Eventually, a toothbrush showed up in the holder beside Sharon’s. And Alaska’s fancy purple shampoo she splurged on to keep her hair platinum. And a collection of socks and pajamas and other clothes that Alaska would just happen to leave there but never return to her apartment. Of course, since so much of her wardrobe and electronics and chargers and, well, everything, somehow ended up at Sharon’s flat, Alaska spent more and more time there. It was just convenient, that was all.

Alaska’s life was  _ good.  _ Different from where she thought she would be at this point in her life, but good. Violet was hounding her about the “friend” she was staying with, and about how she seemed to have that “post-sex glow” (as she liked to call it) 24-fucking-7, but Violet was a bitch and too nosy for her own good. 

She spent her afternoons in the living room of the apartment, practicing lines from a production that was worth quite a hefty amount of her grade. Cerrone was her only spectator. He didn’t throw rotten tomatoes or boo her off of the coffee table stage though, so she takes what she can get. Sometimes Sharon would come home early and watch her, give her pointers and then tell her to stop repeating the same damn lines for the 50th time and put her mouth to good use. It was a good break. Sharon brought up the idea a few times, putting Alaska in some of her short films. It’d be fun! The gorgeous ditzy blonde in a gore-y horror short film? Instant blockbuster! People  _ love  _ cliche shit like that. Plus, Sharon would love to have Alaska on set with her all day.

It was nice, truly. Sharon took them out for dinner or made fancy vegetarian meals. She’d wake Alaska up with her head between her thighs, leaving Alaska to shudder awake in a cool sweat and groaning. There’d be small notes with hearts on them when Sharon would disappear before Alaska got up. Sharon would have an Uber waiting outside Alaska’s  _ Starbucks _ location when she was done work, and sometimes Sharon would even pop in herself to visit even though Alaska knows she’d rather support local businesses than the industry coffee shop she worked at. Sharon bought her fancy clothes and shoes and lingerie just to see Alaska blush and squirm. Alaska would get all quiet and call Sharon  _ mommy  _ and curl up on the couch beside her, pressing kisses to her neck to distract her from the movie she was watching. Or, she’d get bratty and call her  _ mama _ , call Sharon on set when she was in the apartment alone touching herself. Life was good. 

—

Alaska more or less moving in only proved to show how  _ needy  _ she was. She was worse than a pet, but Sharon only had Cerrone to compare her to so maybe it wasn’t the fairest comparison. They both bit Sharon, though. Alaska would text Sharon while she was on set, something along the lines of  _ noodles i miss you :( when are you going to be hoooome? sharonnnn i need you. mama please _ with an image attached of Alaska leaning up against the pillows wearing one of Sharon’s old shirts, with the tip of one thumb in her mouth and two fingers from her other hand knuckle deep in her cunt. Sharon would have to call it a day early and rush home, finger fuck Alaska into the couch cushions until she saw stars and called Sharon  _ mommy  _ despite how embarrassed she got after. 

Sharon loved it, how open Alaska was becoming with her. She stopped hiding her phone calls with her brother, instead she would saunter around the kitchen and sit herself upon Sharon’s lap while she listened to Cory talk about the girl he met at the gym. Sharon would tickle her thigh, slip a finger into her panties just to feel how wet she already was and circle her clit until Alaska hung up the phone. Alaska would come back from her lectures and talk about her professors and how her auditions went. She’d write her essays on the leather couch while Sharon painted her toenails baby pink, ate her out while they dried and let Alaska drop her notes and pen onto the hardwood. Sharon liked how Alaska was becoming less shy, how she would pout when she didn’t get her way and call Sharon mama in public just to be a brat and start a scene. Alaska would press kisses to her cheek unprompted, would stop shying away when Sharon payed their dinner bill and bought her fancy lingerie and shoes, would let Sharon give her glasses of wine all day and press on her bladder while fingering her until she cried.

Today was no different. Alaska  _ knew  _ Sharon was out talking to some of her “creative partners” about an idea she had, an idea that she had been sketching and writing for hours after Alaska had fallen asleep on the couch beside her, toes tucked between Sharon’s thighs. She  _ knew  _ Sharon was having some sort of creative breakthrough and was busy. But Alaska was in the apartment alone, and Sharon had left before she woke up. So now she was just lonely and sad and her underwear shifted coldly against her. 

_ lasky <3: noodles when will you be home? _

_ noodles <333: I don’t know baby .. The girl I’m at lunch with is a really talented costume and prop designer. Even if she is a bit stand-offish.  _

_ lasky <3: but i neeeeeed you :( _

Alaska sent a photo. She was in a sheer pink robe Sharon had bought for her. It was flowy and elegant and trailed behind Alaska on the floor when she walked. It made her feel like an old housewife. She wanted a spiral staircase, wanted to stand at the top of it with a glass of champagne in her hand. Underneath it she wore nothing. She was pouty and annoyed and leaning back on the couch pillows, lips parted and pinching a nipple between two fingers.

_ noodles <333: I’ll be home in an hour .. Picking up some things. Hope you know how spoiled you are. Brat. _

_ lasky <3: :) :) :) <3 _

When Sharon gets home, her heart nearly beats out of her chest. She’s had her fair number of romances. Mostly with woman her own age, sometimes younger. Some of them even made it past the six month mark in their relationship. There was something about Alaska though that had Sharon’s head spinning. It was like her entire world had shifted by this girl and was spinning backwards on its axis. Backwards and upside-down. And double time. Whatever. Alaska was curled up on the couch, nude except for the robe, with Cerrone in her lap. She was humming softly to herself and her toes were curled into the couch cushions where her legs were folded underneath her. The natural light made her hair and skin glow and it was so soft and  _ right.  _ Long term didn’t usually work with Sharon. The only long term relationships she had were with cocaine and whiskey and fucking Cerrone the cat, who she didn’t even want in the first place. So  _ why  _ did coming back to her apartment daily to Alaska make it feel more like a home than ever before?

“You’re such a brat, you know that, right?” At the sound of Sharon’s voice Cerrone hops off of Alaska, allowing her to get up to greet Sharon.

“Lies, mama. You’re full of lies.” Alaska laughs and presses a kiss to the dimple in Sharon’s chin. “What’d you get me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. Go lie down, pumpkin.” Sharon kisses the side of her hair and gives her ass a tap before Alaska nods and heads to the bedroom.

Alaska’s long and full on the bed. Her hips and breasts filled out more after being with Sharon. Sharon took her out for lunch and dinner, fed her cheesecake and other expensive desserts. She always made sure her baby was cared for. Alaska’s hips were soft and propped up with a long pillow, and her breasts were full and heavy against her chest as she breathed deeply, waiting for Sharon. 

The rabbit vibrator Sharon comes into the room with is black. It’s not overly long, but the girth makes up for it. Alaska knows Sharon will have to stretch her, start with two fingers just so Alaska can feel the burn then stuff her with three.

“Mommy please…” Alaska draws it out, flutters her eyelashes.

She’s pouty and wet and Sharon kneels beside her on the bed, pulls one of Alaska’s legs up and out to spread her open. 

“So wet already baby? Greedy girl.” Alaska screws her eyes shut at the words. “Open your eyes for me sweetheart. Watch mama.”

Sharon slips two fingers inside of the younger girl and Alaska cries, twisting her hips. Her fingers are thick and strong and they fuck Alaska almost mechanically, avoiding her g-spot but scissoring to stretch her open. It burns slightly and Alaska gasps, heat curling in her stomach. She can  _ hear  _ Sharon’s fingers moving in and out of her, can hear when a third one enters. Alaska tries to clench her thighs together but with Sharon between them she’s stuck spread open. She wants to move and squirm, clamp around Sharon’s hand, but Sharon’s got her hip pinned down and is kneeling above Alaska with so much dominance she’s stuck in position with nowhere else to go.

When Alaska’s stretched and dripping, Sharon presses the vibrator inside until it’s snug against both her g-spot and clit. Alaska’s whining high and nasally. Her eyes are dark and her fingers are tugging at the sheets and she’s watching Sharon desperately. It clicks on and she gasps and cries, her hip twitching at the sudden stimulation. 

“I should buy you another one of these. A small one that slips into your panties.” Alaska whines and moves her thumb to her mouth, partly to have something to bite and partly to have something to stifle her pathetic cries. “Could turn it on while you’re out picking up dry cleaning. Or while you’re out with mommy’s credit card. Bet you’d love how everyone would watch you as you whined, unable to stop it.”

Alaska gasped as Sharon started moving the vibrator, slowly pressing it in and out of her slightly. It pressed so tightly against where she was the most sensitive and she cried out, thrusting her hips up into the pressure. Heat was curling in her stomach and she could feel her peak building. Her breasts were shaking above her in time with her panting.

“It’s pathetic, really,” Sharon stopped the vibrator, leaving it still and full in Alaska, “how desperate you are for me. Texting me while I’m out, expecting me to drop everything and come get you off like the greedy little slut you are.”

The twitch of Alaska’s thigh and how her eyes almost roll back remind Sharon of just how much she loves it. Being humiliated like that. She loves when Sharon makes fun of how wet she is, how open and soft she is and how she fucks herself on Sharon’s single finger wanting more, how turned on she gets when Sharon buys her expensive lingerie only to rip it off of her later because money isn’t an issue.

She wonders if Alaska could get off on it alone. Just Sharon’s fingers pinching her nipples, fingering her slowly and avoiding the areas she needed the attention so badly. Sharon would comment on how swollen she was, how it was cute that she thrust up and squirmed as if Sharon was actually going to give her what she wanted. She’d bite on Alaska’s nipple, laughing as she flicked the sensitive bud while leaning over the younger girl, still fully clothed. Sharon thinks she could do it. She’d cum untouched and almost instantly recoil, heat exploding in her lower stomach and her cheeks flushing. Sharon would laugh and watch Alaska’s cunt clench and shake before pressing a kiss to her pubic mound.

But for now Alaska was spread and shaking in front of her, thrusting to try and get the toy to touch her and push her over the edge.

“No, no, no, no mama please. That’s not fair.” Alaska’s voice is whiny and pouty, drawing every syllable out, and Sharon can hear her puffing out air through her nose. Tears gather in the corner of Alaska’s eyes.

“Nothing’s ever fair, baby. And you’re gonna take what I give so maybe I’ll let you cum.” Sharon gives Alaska’s thigh a pat once she’s come down from the edge, then turns the vibrator on low. 

This time around Alaska yells out brokenly, hips chasing the feeling so hard Sharon has to pin her down with both hands. Her eyes are screwed shut and Sharon can see where tears start leaking from them. Alaska’s mumbling something incoherent and thrashing her head back and forth, digging her fingertips into the pillow under her head. The cycle repeats itself a few more times, bringing Alaska up to the edge and then ripping it from her. She’s become unable to form any words other than  _ please, no,  _ and  _ mommy _ and it’s like some sick power move on Sharon’s part. How Alaska’s whole world right now revolves around Sharon, and whether or not Sharon’s going to let her cum. 

When Sharon turns the vibrator up instead of off and presses it tight up against Alaska, the younger girl cries and pushes off the bed, thighs trying to close around the toy. Her whines are high pitched and she’s gasping. The wet sounds her pussy is making is obscene and Sharon watches her twitch and clench, all wet and shiny.

Sharon pets Alaska’s hair as she comes down, slips the toy out of her and puts it on the nightstand. She kisses around Alaska’s face and tells her she’s beautiful, that she did so good, mommy’s so proud. The bed dips when she leaves for only a second. She gets a glass of water and a cloth to wipe Alaska off, and grabs her sketchbook from where it sits in her purse. She fingers herself hard as Alaska comes back to her senses and licks around her nipple, trailing her airy hands across Sharon’s body.

Softly, Sharon kisses Alaska’s forehead when she’s sure she’s asleep, and pulls out her sketchbook.


	2. all the loving in the world couldnt stop me now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Alaska still felt like a teenager. Like a teenager in her first relationship when everything was fresh and new. The type of love that was exciting and innocent. Kisses at lockers and passing notes in class. It was dumb, really.
> 
> (tw for drug use, mention of character death, and watersports if youre not into that)

The first time Alaska arrives at the rented out studio a few blocks away from the apartment, nearly the entire set goes silent. She didn’t mean to interrupt, really, it’s just that her and Sharon had their location sharing on (for… reasons. Sharon got _worried_ , okay?) and her Classic Literature lecture was over and she was _bored_ and wanted to visit and — now everyone was looking at her. A few people she recognized from Sharon’s descriptions. Jinkx, the redhead who was now smiling like a fox where they stood on set, hand propped on their cocked hip. Phi Phi, the costume and prop designer with blue hair who quirked an eyebrow at her entrance. The others she wasn’t too sure, but she knows Sharon must have mentioned everyone before. It was a pretty tight knit group.

“Noodles, I think your girl is here! Hurry up, she’s a cutie!” Jinkx cackles, it’s big and booming, and Alaska feels a sense of pride, puffs her chest out as the rest of the people on set look at her. “Jinkx. Jinkx Monsoon. You must be Alaska.” They draw out the last syllable and their eyes twinkle like they know something Alaska doesn’t.

“Yeah, hi! I’ve heard a lot about you.” Alaska chimes back and Jinkx grins.

A voice cuts through the studio and she spins on her toes.

“Jinkxy are you harassing my Lasky?”

Sharon wraps a strong hand around Alaska’s waist and hooks the other in the hair at the back of her head. She pulls the smaller girl in for a kiss, pressing her tongue against Alaska’s teeth and listening for the small sigh out her nose in response. Every eye in the room seemed to be on there and Alaska flushed. Sharon was powerful and domineering and squeezed Alaska’s ass, as if marking her claim before pulling away and turning to introduce everyone.

Most of the names sounded familiar, but they still flew in one ear and out the other. At this time of the day most people were mulling around. Sharon talked about how they had filmed a few scenes but needed to adjust costumes, which means they had to adjust lighting and she wanted to reposition everything else — ultimately nothing they had gotten done today is any good. Alaska understood, vaguely, she really did. But of course, all her performance wasn’t meant to be caught on camera, so she tried to be as sympathetic as she could.

“God, I need to fuck you.” The older woman led them down a narrow hallway, lined with supply closets and washrooms and dressing rooms. There was a small office area that she pushed into, half-heartedly kicking the door shut behind them before lighting a cigarette.

Smoke plumed from her lips. Alaska watched her lips purse, smoke crawling out slowly, all hot and grey. Sharon’s eyelashes fluttered on her cheeks and casted shadows in the dim lighting, and she tapped ashes off the cigarette carelessly onto the carpet. It wasn’t like, a _thing,_ Sharon smoking. Alaska barely even smoked herself. Only when she was stressed, or in social situations. But somehow the mix of Sharon’s nimble fingers and plush lips and cigarettes had Alaska sucking in a deep breath.

“Can you bend over my desk for me baby? Pull down your panties too, but keep them around your knees.” She took another drag as she spoke, leaning back against the door and crossing her ankles. Alaska could hear the _whoosh_ of smoking leaving her lips, and the way the wood of the door creaked. Everything sounded hushed.

Alaska sniffed through her nose and shuffled to Sharon’s desk. It was bare, except for her laptop and a notebook propped up in the far corner. She shuffled down her panties — a baby pink thong — to her knees and shyly curled her fingers around the far edges of the desk to bend herself over.

“Flip your skirt up, don’t be shy.” Alaska could hear the swift exhale from Sharon’s lips and how she tapped the cigarette with her finger. She nearly felt high. “I’m going to spank you, but I want to see you get yourself all stretched out for me first.”

Alaska _whimpered._ She could feel the heat coiling in her stomach and between her legs. Her thighs were already becoming slick and she felt hot and sticky. Without even looking she could tell her cunt was pink and throbbing, already all swollen and shiny and she knew Sharon would _tsk_ at her for being so wet already. She flipped her skirt up onto her back.

“Oh baby,” Sharon paused and dropped her cigarette, putting it out slowly into the carpet with the toe of her heel. “Such a messy girl, huh? You should see yourself — you look just like a greedy little whore with your pussy all wet like that. What are we going to do with you?” The lighter flicked again and Alaska squirmed, transferring more of her wetness onto her thighs. She could tell Sharon wasn’t watching her, that she was more focussed on the cigarette dangling from her lips than the girl spread on her desk.

“Fuck yourself for me sweetpea, put those fingers to good use.” A shuddering breath left Alaska and she reached back slowly, dipping her middle finger into her wetness and pressing lightly into her hole. “Nuh uh, you know better than that. Start with two, don’t be silly.”

“Mama…”

“Come on baby, if you’re good for me I’ll turn that pretty ass of yours all red.”

Alaska dipped two of her fingers inside. They were met with no resistance and Alaska pushed them in farther, letting the sound of her dripping cunt ring out into the empty room. She was warm and wet and crooked her fingers the best she could, pressing against her sensitive insides. Sharon laughed from somewhere behind her.

“Oh Lasky. You’re so wet it’s pathetic. I haven’t even touched you.” Her heels made soft noises against the carpet and she watched Alaska tense up, her back arching and the knuckles of her free hand turning white where they gripped the edge of the desk. “Such a good little whore. Do you think everyone out there knows? I’m sure they’d love to know that my pretty little girl is all stretched out on my desk, waiting for her mommy to spank her.”

Sharon slipped in her own finger beside Alaska’s. The ring of muscle stretched around her and Alaska cried out, jutting her hips and pressing back against the fingers until Sharon’s was buried into her. She crooked her fingers where Alaska was unable to due to her position and stroked. Wet sounds echoed in the room and Sharon dug the tip of her finger into Alaska g-spot just to hear her yell out and watch her knees buckle.

“Or is your plan to just let them all know, hm? Because if not I suggest you shut your dirty little mouth.” Sharon’s finger was gone as quickly as it was there and she tapped Alaska’s lips, humming as she sucked it clean.

“Now suck on your fingers for me baby, keep you nice and quiet.” Alaska squirmed and moved her fingers to her mouth. A trail of her wetness chased her fingers from her cunt and caught against her thigh. Sharon slid it through her fingers slowly, and wiped it on Alaska’s pale ass before giving a soft tap. It wasn’t enough for Alaska and she whined, pressing her ass back into Sharon’s palm.

Sharon rubbed her bottom slowly, squeezing before pulling away and delivering a firmer slap. She repeated this a few times, rubbing gently before smacking with her bare palm. Under her hand, Alaska’s ass was turning bright pink. There were outlines of red where Sharon had hit and where she was crossing her slaps and placing them thoughtfully. The smaller girl cried out when Sharon landed her hits on the top of her thigh where it met her ass. Her breaths were shallow and rough and tears were pricking at the corner of her eyes.

After one last spank, Sharon moved her fingers between Alaska’s legs. She was nearly dripping. Sharon had never been with a woman so eager like Alaska was. She’d never been with a girl who got so wet. Who dripped down her thighs and soaked through all her panties for Sharon. Who could nearly orgasm just from being spanked and talked down to. Alaska was a goddamn miracle. Her goddamn miracle.

With a touch to her clit Alaska was jerking and cumming all over Sharon’s fingers. She cried out around her own two fingers and arched her back. The desk was shaking with her own shuddering and she gripped the edge as her knees gave out. Sharon shushed her softly, rubbing her through her orgasm until her body and pussy stopped convulsing and she could press a soft kiss to the top of her ass.

 

—

 

Sometimes Alaska still felt like a teenager. Like a teenager in her first relationship when everything was fresh and new. The type of love that was exciting and innocent. Kisses at lockers and passing notes in class. It was dumb, really. Sharon was 42 with money and Alaska was a young girl who helped pass the time and wasn’t in the financial situation to complain, and the sex was a bonus too. But there was still something so comforting and domestic about coming back after work or class to Sharon calling her _baby_ and letting Alaska sit on her lap and talk about her day.

She had a lecture in the morning and came back to an empty apartment. Most of her reading was done, and they were in that stage just after midterms where they were getting in the gist of things once more. Sharon was usually gone during the day now, always at the studio or out with people talking business and promotions. Alaska was sprawled on their couch, breasts perky and hips full in a casual lingerie set, with a joint between her lips.

The curtains were open and sunlight was streaming through the apartment. Alaska could count the dust particles floating in the air, could see the flame licking up the paper of the joint as she inhaled. Her skin felt warm from the sun, or the joint. It didn’t matter. The TV was playing an old movie from the 80s that Alaska couldn’t remember the name to, but she wasn’t paying much attention anyways.

Sharon had a nice collection of films, all lined up under the TV in the cabinet. Curious, Alaska ended up kneeling in front of the TV, flipping through movies. A lot of box sets of full series. (She was a collector. How nerdy.). Many horror films, including the campy, cheesy ones. Many more films Alaska had never heard of, (they were thrift store finds, probably, or from another underground production like Sharon’s). Some queer films and documentaries. Then a box at the back with blank covers with oddly-recognizable handwriting on it.

Was this invading Sharon’s privacy? I mean, all the studio’s films are out in the public. But these seemed older, more personal maybe? Alaska tries to imagine Sharon as a teenager, running around with a camcorder. In a high school video class creating short films with her friends. She’s seen Sharon’s sketchbook. Doodles and story boards and she’s edited scripts when Sharon’s eyes were hurting beneath her tortoiseshell glasses from looking at her laptop screen all day. She’s seen everything Sharon has _wanted_ her to see.

She puts the DVD’s in anyways. The sun sets outside and leaves her blanketed in darkness where she sits, back against the coffee table in front of the TV. They’re old films, demos, and deleted scenes. Behind the scenes footage. She can recognize Jinkx, but she looks younger. Sharon looks younger too. Her hair is peroxide bleached and Alaska can tell where her hair is split at the ends. Everything is filmed locally. All the props and the people and costumes are volunteer work. Sharon smokes cheap cigarettes and laughs when someone calls for a line, trips up on the cheesy camp of the script.

When Sharon comes home she finds Alaska curled in the same position, wrapped in a fur blanket. The TV is still buzzing softly and she recognizes the people on the screen, the old alley behind her old run down apartment and the park down the street. She laughs and Alaska jumps, eyes wide and fingers scrambling for the remote.

“It’s fine. How many did you watch?” Sharon tugs off her heels and kneels down beside Alaska. Her joints pop softly and Alaska opens up the blanket, pulling the older woman to sit beside her on the ground so she can curl up beside her.

Alaska tucks her cold toes in between Sharon’s thighs, and wiggles her fingers into the dip of her waist. She smells like weed and expensive perfume and Sharon breathes deeply.

“Most of them, I think.” She chuckles as Sharon raises her eyebrows. “They were good! You were like, a baby in them.”

“Watch yourself. I was _your age_ in them.” Sharon tuts and Alaska watches her crows feet move when she smiles.

Alaska’s fingers move under Sharon’s shirt, pressing against the warm skin of her tummy and waist. They rest under her breasts where it’s damp and warm, and the buttons of Sharon’s shirt and straining from Alaska’s hands.

“Yeah and at my age you were doing _that._ And I work at _Starbucks_ trying to pay off tuition for a useless major.” The younger girl pouted.

“ _I_ was living paycheck to paycheck from a costume shop, all my friends and any supporters of my art were people I met at nightclubs, my parents wanted nothing to do with me, _and_ I was a coked up high functioning alcoholic.” Sharon laughed out through her nose and flicked Alaska’s nose lightly, “My household was always well off financially, very well off, actually. I ran away, though. My parents and I never really connected. So I left and never really looked back. Didn’t have a cent to my name til I got the news my parents had died and I was inheriting enough money to keep me wired for quite a while. Got my shit together real quick.”

“Oh Noodles,”

“But look at me now! Put that money right back into my art. And now I’m a low, _low_ level celeb living in a penthouse apartment in Philadelphia with a pretty girl.” Sharon wraps a piece of Alaska’s hair around her hand and wraps it around her fist once, twice, until Alaska moans when it pricks hot against her scalp. She lets it go and lets the strands tickle her fingers.

“A pretty girl?” Alaska questions, doe eyed and head tilted.

“Real pretty. I’ve been thinking about my baby girl all day.” The older woman shuffles to move Alaska’s hands from where they sit under her shirt. She lays Alaska down on the blanket and runs a finger down her thigh. “Can I taste you, pumpkin?”

Sharon does, slowly. The younger girl is soaking when Sharon takes her panties off, dragging her wetness with them. She’s pink and flushed and glistening, squirming under Sharon’s gaze. Usually they fuck fast and hard. Usually Sharon would have Alaska tied and shaking, crying from the fingers in her cunt and teeth around her nipple. Tonight, though, Sharon takes her time.

Sharon eats Alaska out slowly on the living room floor. The blanket has bunched itself up under Alaska’s head and her ass is squashed against the hardwood floor. The TV has quieted behind them save for a soft hum. It’s quiet and serene. Moonlight floods in from the open curtains and illuminates Alaska’s face, with her head thrown back and lips parted in a silent sob. Sharon pets her thigh, licks slowly at her pink cunt. She’s gushing with wetness, spreading it down Sharon’s chin and across her cheeks as she jerks her hips. Sharon has given up on trying to pin the younger girl’s thighs down, instead is letting her grind and shudder against her face. When Alaska cums it’s shuddering and loud. She’s crying from the intensity and Sharon moves to cradle her, lets Alaska suck a nipple into her mouth and finger Sharon quickly.

 

— 

 

It’s quiet one night. Alaska is perched on the kitchen island, letting her feet swing under the edge. She’s focussed on her phone but she can hear Sharon humming just a few feet away. The setting sun is reflecting light into the apartment and Sharon refuses to turn on any lights, instead she exists only in the sunbeams streaming through the window. She’s cooking and Alaska is trying to make out the smell, but the only scent that stands out to her is Sharon’s sweet perfume and the stench of sweat and sex on her from earlier.

“What’re you making, mama?” Alaska wraps herself around Sharon’s back, poking up to peek over her shoulder.

“This is just tofu. I’ll -”

“Can I help?” Alaska interrupts. She doesn’t actually care, she just wants to feel Sharon’s hands on her.

“Sure baby. It’s just like cooking anything else.” Sharon maneuvers Alaska in front of her and presses a kiss to her neck, “Here, it’s like meat. Then you flip it.”

“I’m terrible at cooking, everything I touch I burn.” She laughs.

Sharon chuckles, “No, Lasky. What did I just teach you?”

“It’s meat and then you flip it.” Alaska whines, jokingly pouting and flipping the tofu before slipping away from Sharon. “I’m just gonna let you finish though.”

Sharon kisses her nose. They eat sitting side by side at the kitchen island, Sharon’s hand resting on Alaska’s leg. Alaska is in one of Sharon’s old ripped shirts and it’s soft against her breasts. Sharon tells Alaska over tofu and eggplant stories from her childhood, nights with her mother before their moral disagreements and the times as a teenager sneaking out to go to rock shows. Alaska eats and listens, thinks about how sometimes it feels like she’ll never completely know who Sharon is.

Alaska runs herself a shower and isn’t surprised when Sharon joins her a few minutes in. She fingers the older woman under the hot water, licks water droplets off her breast. Sharon cums quick and washes Alaska’s hair hot down her back. She eats her baby out afterwards, when Alaska’s hair is dampening and the air is cool on her skin. She’s sitting on the edge of the bathtub, knees propped open with Sharon between them. Her nipples are pebbling and Sharon’s breath is warm on her pussy where she’s kneeling hard on the bathmat. Sharon licks her through the first orgasm slowly but by the second she’s working fast and messy.

Alaska steals the covers that night. Sharon can’t help but laugh at how she’s tangled in them, pout resting on her lips and platinum hair sticking out in every angle. She tugs at the blankets until Alaska wakes up, blinks sleepily and wraps herself back around Sharon.

 

— 

 

Violet invites them out. It’s a little queer club Alaska used to go to often, one similar to the kind Sharon would be found in when she was young. She tells Alaska they need to catch up, that her and the rest of their friends want to meet her _woman._

Alaska flutters her eyelashes, asks from where her head is buried between Sharon’s thighs. She can’t say no to Alaska. Definitely not when it’d mean saying no to Alaska sweaty and clumsy under the club lights. It’s not really her scene anymore, but she knows how Alaska gets when she comes home from nights out with her friends, all desperate and horny. Alaska squeals when she agrees, pecks her thigh and presses a kiss to her pubes.

Alaska is in a pink latex piece, just the bralette, tight little skirt, and jacket. Sharon has to take a deep breath when she sees her, calm herself down from just deciding they’re staying home tonight instead. The young girl’s all giggly and excited, holding Sharon’s hand in the cab, clicking their heels together in the back seat. Sharon’s relatively calm. She’s horny. She usually is when it comes to Alaska. There’s wetness gathering in her thong but she can wait. She wants Alaska all dirty and seedy on the bathroom floor, batting her eyelashes up wearing that skimpy latex skirt.

“Thanks for coming with me, by the way.” Alaska squeezed Sharon’s hand as they walked, heels clicking against the pavement.

“It’s no problem, it’ll be nice to meet your friends.”

“Yeah, they uh, really want to meet you.” Alaska flushes.

The club is hot and sweaty. Alaska’s pulling Sharon to the back corner where her friends are in a booth. They’re nice enough. They’re all younger than Sharon, are already two drinks gone. They’re flirty and careless and remind Sharon of herself. Alaska is glued to her side, rubbing her thigh against Sharon’s beside her in the booth, resting her hands on Sharon’s or on her shoulder, in her hair. She’s bringing them drinks and sucking on the straws, swirling her glass around with a pinky nail in her mouth.

It doesn’t take long until Alaska is dragging Sharon out onto the dance floor. She’s hot and sweaty and rolling her body along Sharon’s. The older woman’s hands rest on her ass, right in the dip underneath. Alaska is throwing her head back, letting her hair tickle Sharon’s hands where they rest. She’s a flirt. Full of tequila shots and vodka and adrenaline. She wants Sharon’s hands under her skirt here and now. She wants Sharon’s fingers and her mouth wherever, everywhere. Sharon’s mouth is hot and sticky and Alaska can taste the booze on Sharon’s tongue.

Sharon excuses herself to the washroom and Alaska whines, mumbling about going to get more drinks. The bathroom lights are too bright for Sharon’s drunk eyes. She doesn’t remember getting this drunk and has to stop, balance herself on the bathroom sink. Two of Alaska’s friends are in the corner, they’re giggling and bent over, shuffling a card on the granite.

“You want some?” One asks. Tall blonde. Pearl?

Sharon knows she should say no. That she should go and get her drink from Alaska and get them both nice and drunk then go home and wake up hungover but _not_ itching for another line. Not itching for something she hasn’t touched in such a long time. She should be having her D.A.R.E. moment. Be a spokesperson for the safety of club drugs and street drugs and how you never know what’s going to happen. She should.

“Sure.”

Sharon knows how this works. There’s going to be half an hour of euphoria, she’s going to feel on top of the world. There’s going to be half an hour before the crash, but that was fine. She could deal with the crash. She’s drunk and has Alaska — who’s somewhere in the club. It’s fine, really. But she feels like she’s miles away in this bathroom. The girls left, leaving Sharon with two lines and a crumpled rolled up dollar bill. It feels like the bathroom is closing in on her, and the burn feels familiar licking up her nose.

Alaska finds her ten minutes in, pupils blown and playing with her fingers on the bathroom floor. She’s paranoid and doesn’t know why, can’t understand why anxiety chose now to shoot up her chest. She wants to vomit, thinks maybe the burning alcohol up her throat will snap her back into reality. Everything is buzzing around her and she wants it to slow down, needs everything to slow down. Alaska is drunk. She’s tripping over her own gangly long limbs and doesn’t know why Sharon is heaving on the bathroom floor but she’s down beside her in an instant, stroking her hair and holding Sharon’s head to her chest to try and match their breathing, their heartbeats.

 

—

 

Like most things that happened between them in the bedroom (bedroom being metaphorical, of course), Alaska didn’t _mean_ to let it slip to Sharon. They were drunk. Alaska had ushered Sharon out from her bathroom breakdown, unable to process the situation and pressing another drink into Sharon’s hand. One more turned into two turned into five, and eventually someone had called a cab for the two. Now, Sharon was giggling again and pressing sloppy kisses to Alaska’s neck. Alaska had ushered her into the bathroom, clumsily going through cupboards until she found makeup wipes to clean the both of them up. Sharon was kissing Alaska’s skin, wiggling her fingers under her clothes to take them off. Her hands were tucked in the back of Alaska’s underwear and around her wrist, could feel the thrum of her heartbeat from her veins. The bathroom felt hot and cramped despite it’s size and Alaska had Sharon up against the wall. Alcohol made liquid courage run through her veins, and she felt on top of the world. Moreso with Sharon beneath her.

Sharon was buzzing and Alaska watched a bead of sweat fall from her collarbone, trailing down between her breasts. She pressed forward to chase it with her tongue, taste the salt of it before pressing a kiss to the top of her boob above her bra. The older woman was panting and squirming and Alaska rid them both of their undergarments, pressed them together so their breasts squished then snaked a hand between to pinch Sharon’s nipple.

The tile was cool and hard against Alaska’s knees. She knelt in front of Sharon and fluttered her eyelashes, peering up at the older woman who was losing her composure more by the second. Her fingers were in Alaska’s hair and she _tugged_ , jerking Alaska upwards so her nose was pressed against the groomed hairs.

“Baby, c’mon.” Her breaths were coming out of her nose short and fast and she screwed her eyes shut, eyelashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks from the dim bathroom lighting, “Don’t tease. You know better than that.”

“But mama…” Sharon could see Alaska grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat from below her.

Alaska pressed a soft kiss upwards, relishing in the way Sharon’s hips twitched forward on their own accord. It was rare for Sharon to be seen like this - not in control. She was always sturdy and in change. In the workplace, out in public on dates, in the bedroom. Not that Alaska minded, really, Sharon’s big power complex. But it was nice, to see the older woman falling apart beneath _her_ for once. It didn’t matter how much Sharon could feign indifference sometimes, pretending that Alaska had no real effect on her. Alaska had her wrapped around her finger, really. Her slick, shiny finger, that was pressing up into Sharon suddenly and crooking forward to make her see stars.

Then the finger was gone and Alaska was pressing the flat of her tongue up against Sharon, taking long, broad strokes. Whenever Sharon gasped and her knees started to buckle Alaska would switch it up, making kitten licks around Sharon’s clit. After so many months, Alaska knew what Sharon liked. She knew Sharon liked to grind herself on the flat of Alaska’s tongue and fuck her mouth. She liked when Alaska sucked on her clit and grazed it with her teeth just enough it made Sharon yell and her hips shudder. She liked it when Alaska would press two fingers inside of her and press up to her knuckle in her ass with another one because she loved the pressure and the sensation of being so surrounded and full of her baby until it was too much to handle.

“Baby. Lasky. Wait, fuck, I gotta -” Sharon shifted from one foot to another, her legs shaking under her weight.

She started towards the toilet on the other side of the room and Alaska blinked once, twice, before she let the vodka sodas do the talking and led Sharon over and into the glass shower.

“No seriously. Fuck. I gotta piss.”

“Okay.”

The younger girl was back on her knees now, bouncing her ass on her heels, and peering doe-eyed up at Sharon. It was ironic, truly, how Alaska could look so innocent below her right now. She had one hand sneaking up to rub slow circles around Sharon’s clit, and the other was pressing onto her bladder to make her whine. The fibreglass was hard under her knees but that was secondary at this point, it didn’t matter. Her lips were parted sinfully, tongue heaving slightly with every breath she took, watching up with wide eyes as Sharon squirmed above her.

Sharon honest-to-God _squeaked_ when she began peeing, just small spurts accompanied by the twitch of her hips from Alaska’s fingers on her clit. Alaska closed her eyes and moaned, deep and guttural, as she felt the hot liquid hit her face and she circled Sharon’s clit faster, knowing by the way her hips gyrated that she was getting close. The woman above her threw her head back against the shower, letting out a silent yell as she came and her hips jerked, throwing hot piss against Alaska’s skin.

“Fuck, baby, oh my _God._ ” Sharon’s cunt clenched as Alaska pressed her wet mouth against her clit to ride out the aftershocks.

Her knees nearly buckled when Alaska pulled away, darting out a tongue to lick at the liquid on her lips before standing to meet Sharon.

Sharon got Alaska off hard and fast, huddling her into the corner of the shower and shoving two fingers into her cunt. Her forehead dropped hard against the older woman’s shoulder and she let out a groan, face scrunching as thick fingers pressed up against her. Sharon moved her spare hand to around Alaska’s throat, pressing her head up and back against the shower and feeling the way Alaska swallowed deeply and struggled to breathe against her palm.

“Come on, baby.” Sharon whispered, pressing a kiss to Alaska’s hair as the younger girl clenched, coming around Sharon’s fingers with a yell.

 

—

 

“Can you _pleeease_ pick up your shit? You’ve been leaving beer cans everywhere for _weeks._ ” It was teasing, really. But picking up cans of empty Pabst every morning after Sharon would be up late writing and editing or out on set trying to finish up this film was _annoying._ Alaska was just trying to poke a little fun and she gave a teasing smile to Sharon, who was staring squinty eyed down at her phone.

Sharon was tense. The film was close to finished but some files and the backups had been corrupted and nobody seemed to be taking it as seriously as Sharon but so much money went into the kick-starter and all the promotion and people were waiting for the film and _there was so much to do and —_ Sharon was tense. Understandably so! But Alaska didn’t like the way she’d wait til Alaska was asleep to get back out of bed and onto her laptop. Or the way she’d find Sharon with her hands twitching or on the couch with her phone on her stomach surrounded by empty beer cans.

“As if you don’t leave shit around either?” Sharon snapped back, “I’m busy with things. Who fucking cares if I leave shit around, it’s my apartment.”

Alaska furrowed her brows, her stomach twisting.

“I don’t leave empty beer cans everywhere. You’re gonna get fucking… ants or something. I don’t know. And bullshit, I always clean up after myself. You’re too busy for _anything_ anymore.” The younger girl frowned before continuing, “You’re too tired to ever really talk to me unless it’s about the film or asking me to go do shit for you like pick up your dry cleaning because you can’t just wash half your clothes like a normal fucking person! And I don’t _mind_ talking about the film it’s just - ugh! You just ignore anything not about _you_ and your _stupid movie_ and drink yourself into a daze. _God,_ Sharon.” Alaska stomped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest. She could feel tears welling in her eyes and she felt so _juvenile,_ like a kid arguing with a stubborn parent in the store. Her words were stammering and nervous. Sharon wanted to fight, and she always gets what she wants, right?

The older woman _cackled_ and threw her head back, lifting herself up from the couch so she was standing facing Alaska.

“ _You_ come into my life, into my apartment, and try and act like my schedules and routines have to revolve all around _you_ , Alaska. I’ve managed perfectly fine on my own the past few years. I’m pretty sure I’ve got my shit together enough to not drink myself to death every time a new film rolls along. Maybe I’m just not used to having a little whiny brat around all the time.” Sharon’s voice dropped near an octave and she took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “Have you ever thought about that?”

Sharon was only the slightest bit taller than Alaska, but the younger girl felt as if she were so, so small right now. Her eyes were dark and Sharon was stone cold, jaw clenched and breathing deep through her nostrils. Alaska watched as they flared with each breath, imagined the white lines Sharon stared down at Violet’s party. How the powder would fly in and she would sniff, let it carry her away. She hoped that Sharon wasn’t itching for a line right now, because of her. The older woman reached her hand into the younger’s blonde locks and _tugged,_ forcing Alaska to look up at her.

Alaska whined high and nasally as Sharon sucked on the inside of her cheeks, bringing her other hand up to push two fingers against Alaska’s tongue and open her mouth wide. It was degrading and dirty and wrong and so _humiliating_ and Alaska dropped her jaw, letting her tongue poke out above her wet bottom lip. Sharon spat onto Alaska’s tongue, tapping her cheek so that she would close her mouth a swallow.

“God, you’re such a cunt.”

Sharon’s eyes were still dark, but this time with less rage and more lust.

The leather of the couch was cool and Alaska grunted as she was pushed back against it, legs bent and spread. Sharon tugged down her pants quickly, roughly jerking her hips up to pull them past her ass.

“Gonna fuck me good mama?” The blonde quirked her head, pursing her lips and giving Sharon a teasing look.

“Gonna fuck some sense into you, maybe. Open”

Sharon’s fingers were in her mouth before Alaska was able to process the words. Her tongue trailed over fingerprints, trying to recognize the patterns and imprint them into her memory. She moaned, gathering spit to slick up Sharon’s fingers. When she pulled them away there was a thin trail of saliva and Alaska heaved and watched how it shook, and how it broke apart and landed cold and wet on her chin.

“Let me guess, I’m hot when I’m mad?” The older woman smiled and dragged her already slick fingers through Alaska’s pussy, pushing two fingers inside with no resistance.

“Oh fuck you,” Alaska whined.

“That’s my job, pumpkin.”

Alaska was spread wide on the couch, with one of Sharon’s hands pinning her thighs open and the other three fingers deep. Her throat was stretched back exposing the porcelain skin and Sharon leaned over her, planning to bite and leave a deep purple mark but instead peppering the skin with kisses. Not tonight - not when she was angry and Alaska was angry and they were both vulnerable. Sharon would love to mark up Alaska, leave hickies on her neck and handprints on her ass, but not when it came from anger.

“I think you can do it tonight,” Sharon mused, pulling away only to grab a small bottle of lube from the table beside the couch. “Don’t you?” Her eyebrow quirked and Alaska could hear the cap of the lube. The soft _click_ followed by the cold wetness of Sharon lazily drawing it over her fingers, tucking her now slippery pinky finger in with the rest.

Alaska brought her chin to her chest, slack jawed and panting, eyes screwed shut. The noise that left her mouth was guttural — almost primal, really — and Sharon tsked.

“Use your words,” Sharon’s motions stilled but her fingers stayed crook inside of Alaska, just brushing up against her soft inside. “Do you want mommy’s whole fist inside you? Fill you up like the little whore you are?”

“Yes, god, just _fuck_ me already.”

Sharon started curling her fingers up, pressing against the ring of muscle to tuck her thumb inside. She was at the widest part of her hand now and Alaska was taking deep shallow breaths. Her muscles were quivering and she was rocking her hips, inviting Sharon to go further. The stretch was burning so _good_ and in a moment she fell still, her cunt left quivering around Sharon’s wrist.

Beads of sweat gathered on the inside of Alaska’s thighs and Sharon leaned down to lick them away, revel in the taste of Alaska’s skin. She moved to flutter her tongue across Alaska’s clit, and over the folds of her pussy. She kissed where Alaska’s entrance was stretched and swollen around her wrist. The swell of the young girl’s breasts was visible when she inhaled and Sharon watched as she breathed, heaving and trying to adjust to Sharon’s hand.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Sharon murmurs, if only to herself.

When Alaska comes she grinds down hard on Sharon’s hand. Her knuckles are aching and squished together, and she can feel the pins and needles forming when Alaska’s cunt clenches around her. She comes with a yell and a whimper, aftershocks rocking through her entire body. Her pussy is loose and swollen and her tummy aches just right. Sharon reaches up with her dry hand to wipe a tear from her cheek, pinches a nipple on her way up.

Silence falls over the apartment. Alaska can hear the running tap from the kitchen, where Sharon’s getting a glass of water. The drips against the bottom of the sink. She tries to focus on them — anticipate the patter of the next drop, or the next words to come out of Sharon’s mouth. She doesn’t return from the kitchen but Alaska can hear her breathing. She can feel the tension from the other room.

The tile is cool against Alaska’s feet when she goes to join Sharon in the kitchen. She’s leaned against the island, hand brushed up against one of two full glasses of water. There’s tear stains down her cheeks.

“Sharon?” Sharon blinks in response once, twice.

“I’m sorry, mama, I shouldn’t have -”

“You didn’t do anything. I shouldn’t have snapped on you, baby.” Sharon’s voice is shallow and she takes Alaska into her arms, lets the smaller girl lead her to the bedroom.

Alaska hums and strips them both of all their clothes, snuggles under the covers. She plants light kisses on Sharon’s breast and fingers her slowly, letting Sharon kiss the tear marks off her cheek and breath raggedly into her parted lips. They fall asleep with Alaska’s hand in the curve of Sharon’s ass, their hair tangled together and Sharon looking small as can be curled onto Alaska’s chest.

They don’t talk about it.

 

—

 

Alaska takes up more shifts at work. Spends hours nursing coffee burns on her hands from being distracted. Messes up names on cups and stares blankly at the wall behind customers when taking order. She’d like to say she was throwing herself into her work, but that’d mean doing a good job at is. More-so she was just throwing herself into a place where she didn’t see Sharon.

She spends more time in the campus library studying than she does at home  — at _Sharon’s_. Goes up to the top floor where it’s silent. Rewrites notes until blisters form on her hands and her fingers cramp. Sharon kisses the blisters late at night, interlocks fingers and stretches out her achy joints.

Some days it’s fine. Some days Alaska has a day off and Sharon stays home and they watch movies in silence, kiss in silence, order take out and eat in silence. It’s fine. Not good, but it’s fine. It’s manageable. It’s a manageable type of awkward that Alaska can deal with. She can deal with this weird in between until promo is done and the film is released and everything calms down a little. She can deal with Sharon drinking more than usual. She can deal with the baggies of white powder she pretends not to see for Sharon’s sake. She can deal with the way Sharon’s pupils dilate and her hands shake after a long day.

Sharon likes to pretend it isn’t a problem. Likes to pretend that she’s fine. That she’s older now and more mature and has a grip on herself unlike when she was young. When she was young everything she did was spontaneous. All her art, all the drugs, it was wild and she did everything with no remorse. She knew what she was doing now. Every idea, piece of art, empty bottle, white line, had a purpose. It was calculated. She was high functioning.

Mostly, she likes to pretend that Alaska isn’t distancing herself. It’s just a coincidence that she studies more at the library, that she’s taking more shifts. She’s just being independent. She’s young and successful and spending all her time around _Sharon_ wasn’t necessary. They could be together and not always be _together,_ y’know? Sharon rubs the aches out of Alaska’s legs when she comes home from a long shift, kiss her knuckles when she gets home from a lecture. Soon she’s spending longer hours at the studio, locking herself up to edit and review, signing up for even more promo. Alaska isn’t distancing herself, and neither is she. They just have other lives is all.

Alaska steals the covers in her sleep again. Sharon sleeps cold that night.   


* * *

 

 

Sharon’s never liked confrontation. It was much easier to just run from your problems. But she couldn’t run from Alaska. Beautiful, talented Alaska. Alaska who understood her obscure pop culture references. Alaska who would call Sharon on the phone, just to hear her voice. She couldn’t burn that bridge. Couldn’t run and leave behind this miracle of a woman. It was juvenile. Both her adoration for this girl and how scared she was of fucking things up.

It must happen, them talking. Sharon can sense it. She makes sure she’s fucked up for when it happens. Alaska’s tired, she can sense it all they way from the kitchen when she pushes through the front door. She’s tense and Sharon wants to dig her thumbs under the muscles in her shoulders, listen as Alaska whimpers as Sharon takes car of the knots in her back. Instead, she picks at her fingernails, tries to pick at her brain to remember how long ago she did a line.

Her head feels like it’s full of wasps. Alaska’s voice is buzzing at her and she’s oh so mad. But Sharon is laughing and reaching out to pet her baby’s cheeks because they can argue all they want but it’s always okay. It always ends okay. But her baby is pulling away and loosely slapping at her wrists. Alaska’s eyebrows are creased and her hands are flailing at the nearly empty bottle of vodka. Questioning why, why, _why._ Why Sharon was doing this to herself. She couldn’t think of an answer.

Alaska was disappointed. She knew Sharon was better than this. She was better than her blown pupils and sickly pale skin, whiskey breath and eye bags from barely sleeping.

“God, just - just get out then. Get the fuck out.” Sharon interrupted, leaning atop her shaking elbows on the counter. Her heartbeat was racing.

The bottle flew, landing a few feet to the left of Alaska and shattering. She could see her fractured reflection in the pieces, the light catching and blurring out what would have been reflected of Sharon standing a few feet away.

Usually she’d argue. Usually she’d argue and they’d fuck and apologize and never actually talk about anything but it’d be fine. It wouldn’t be, of course. It’d be tense and weird but it wouldn’t be spoken about. Nothing would be done about it. Usually it would all end okay. Usually.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

Alaska toed her way into the bedroom, grabbing one of her bags and stuffing the essentials into it. She threw all the lingerie, all the fancy make-up and perfumes, all the luxuries to the side. Heard a perfume bottle shatter and leak onto a velvet slip in the corner of the bedroom. Raspberries and vanilla filled the room, assaulted her nose. She wanted to vomit. The apartment was eerie and silent and Alaska focussed on her breathing, and on the cars passing down below.

She tried to ignore the way Sharon was curled with her knees to her chest, fingers clenched so hard crescent shaped imprints were left in her palm. She tried to ignore the way Sharon was rocking back and forth, tears leaking out of her eyes and hands deathly white. She tried to ignore the way Sharon tried to start a sentence, only to stop and choke on her words, unable to get anything out.

Alaska dropped her spare key in the dish by the front door and left.

It wasn’t what Sharon wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long babes <3
> 
> chapter title from s.o.s by femme

**Author's Note:**

> oh my gosh this was not meant to be so long! it was also supposed to be a one-shot but plot twist, its going to be longer. im hoping for one or two more chapters around the same length so please bare with me!
> 
> anyways, i really really hope you enjoy this because i really put my everything into it. as always im a sucker for validation so leave me some comments if you like <3


End file.
